…I done fucked up.
His preparations had been completed long before the Reveal.
Gathering Void aligned crystals wasn't the only task he was performing, that he used the week's buildup for. It took that much time to Forge everything he was going to use. Mostly due to Lycoris having to focus on the Cauldron.
He suited up the second he left. It wasn't going to be a terribly long journey, honestly. Gaea's location was where Earth used to be. Stuck in what most would call 'Purgatorio'. A dimension slightly sideways from the one he now called home.
Where the highest realm in the world of Light was considered 'Paradiso', the deepest realm in the world of Darkness would normally be called 'Inferno.' But it wasn't a hellish landscape at all. It was actually quite beautiful. Gothic ruins and eerily bejeweled pathways, leading to the Meridian. Shadowed forests and broken villages. All underneath an eternal night sky.
Akira had since told him that her Realm had no proper name. So she asked 'her King' to grant it one.
He was still wondering why she kept calling him that. But regardless he puzzled over it for a day.
Umbras: Realm of the Deep.
He swore the girl glowed brighter than the day she woke up after finally bedding him.
Still. Purgatorio was basically anchored to the Void. It was, like he explained long ago, a sort of in-between realm. A place where the placeless find themselves. It was 'sideways' to current reality, and seemed to only exist because Gaea still remained. Where the Void was the location where all things that had Ended went, Purgatorio was where that which never had the chance to end, resided.
It was far less difficult to slip into that plane of existence than it was to enter Paradiso.
Yet still there was physical distance to travel.
This would be covered by a modified Light Jet. Specifically designed and programmed for travel through Purgatorio, and the empty spaces it held.
When the time came…he got himself equipped.
A modified fully sealed bodysuit similar to what he wore during his jaunt through the Grid's Arena. Four Identity Disks, two on his arms, two at his ankles, both resembling glowing wheels. Lycoris had joked that if he ended up on all fours, there was a chance he might end up being able to mimic a car.
She would then find herself squealing as he conferred upon her rear, his right open hand of behavior.
A small katana attuned to his Vector Trap. Forged through Lycoris' body itself – a process that is better left descriptionless – from spare Halos not used in the re-tempering of Olette, the blade itself was about four and a half feet in length. Fused with shards of Void aligned crystals, it would better channel his Gravitational field and compress it into a more…grinding shape. The Genmurei Kai technique he had been working on that he'd used in Paradiso, was still being attuned. The crystal shards merged into the blade and the one crystal chunk inside its hilt, would make the alignment of parallel fields much faster, and much denser than he could currently perform on his own.
He wouldn't be carving reality any time soon, but a few tests showed that most objects got torn apart.
The bodysuit was also clad in multiple pieces of armor. A pair of gauntlets, a pair of greaves (the disks were inserted into specifically created slots on the sides) a pair of small pauldrons, a small chestplate, and black belt with grey buckle. All in all, he looked a lot like a black and silver clad Lancer, from the Fifth Holy Grail War.
But topping it all, were the seven Gaia Memory Coresthat Lycoris had crafted specifically for this operation.
The Chain memory, implanted in the left pauldron. Its purpose would increase the strength and duration of any powers he wielded with the intent to restrain or bind his targets. This also had the passive effect of connecting every Core to each other, linking and enhancing their cumulative effects, and letting them mix in ways that wouldn't have been possible normally.
The Defense memory, implanted in the front of the chestplate. Located at his torso, this would spread its power along his whole body, giving him a sort of damage reducing screen. It would passively increase the power of his defensive repelling fields, increasing the range of deployment, the density of the barrier, and the speed of anything incoming. It wouldn't at all be enough to say block a sword launched by the Gate of Babylon, let alone one of Lycoris' summoned swords, but it would definitely slow it down much more than usual. As well, it would increase the toughness of the armor, the suit and his actual body itself.
The Edge memory, going into the right Gauntlet. Containing the concept of edges, its purpose was to add additional cutting power to any slashing attacks, and additional puncture power to any piercing. As well, it allowed his bare hands and feet, to have a sort of boreing power, as if they were claws.
The Force memory, in the left gauntlet. Wielding the concept of momentum, it would cause a flat increase in most of his gravitational powers. A major buff to nearly everything he did, as well as passively increasing the strength of his hits.
The Shinobi memory, in the buckle. This had the passive effect of boosting his agility, as ninja are believed to be swift as the wind. This also increases his stealth abilities, making him harder to detect, easier to lose track of, and more difficult to hear coming. As well, it grants him the ability to materialize and throw various ninja equipment, as well as perform, without tools, multiple ninjutsu. Being that it was less powerful than the Ninja memory he used before, the 'Ninjutsu' or rather, chakra techniques of the warriors from the Elemental Nations, were unavailable to him.
The Projectile memory in the right pauldron. This would increase the damage dealt by anything that could be conceptualized as a projectile. As well, it allowed a passive increase to his throwing and shooting accuracy.
And finally, the Recovery memory, situated in the back of the chestplate. In addition to speeding the healing of any wounds he incurred, it would also allow for a passive capability of being able to recover from disorientation or being knocked down. To the point where it could be instant, letting him better react to sudden shifts in combat.
In all combination, he was prepared for war. Very much so. He left, confident in his capability to survive, to meet with Gaea, to maybe even defeat her if need be.
…yeap. I fucked it. I fucked it so bad it's been Geoff'd.
Except that the moment he crossed the threshold into Gaea's domain, she sang.
A song he recognized. A song he dreamt of. A song he resonated with.
A song that upon completion, immediately caused the absolute shutdown of his Light Jet. It crashed and exploded into voxels, as he landed on the roof of a broken, moss covered building, half-submerged in murky waters.
Waters that seemed to lead to an endless abyss, below.
He sighed to himself, realizing that he really should have anticipated this; drawing his blade, as a familiar shimmer in the nighttime air became a legion of Nobodies.
…looks like this is my Thousand Heartless Battle. Fuck my life…
Kingdom Hearts Re: Order
Chapter XXXVI: Taken Hope
*CRACK*
One sound ruled them all.
The survivors of the Meteor Crisis were locked down. Yuffie had stumbled and stared. Aerith had frozen, eyes wide in horror. Barret had dropped to his knees, Tifa plummeting with him, streams of terrified tears down both their faces. Cloud dropped his sword in shock, a display few noticed, but if anyone had, would have found telling.
The only ones not so affected were Zack and Sephiroth. Zack who had then stepped in front of Aerith, carving in two a Taken Thrall intending to capitalize on the Ancient's lack of attention. While Sephiroth had carved through what Lycoris had been calling a 'truth seeking orb' launched by a Taken Centurion. A hulking beast of a creature with ornate trimmings, a powerful cannon, and the ability to manifest homing spheres of pain that did not cease their hunt for a target until it delivered its inclination, or was destroyed.
It didn't take long for a Taken Phalanx to capitalize on Cloud's distraction, a pulse wave of force slamming into the blonde, launching him twenty feet and sending him skidding on his back.
But he barely noticed the pain, mind overcome with a feeling of failure, as he was engulfed in memories of the little girl now deceased.
The crack was somehow loud enough to echo across the entire plaza, everyone hearing it, but only a few having the time to even attempt to look in the direction it came from. Melody was one of them.
Only rather than fear or sadness or pain…
She exhibited rage.
Pure. Unfettered. Hatred.
With the fury of a tsunami, the girl slaughtered no less than twenty Thrall, fifteen Psions, eight Phalanx, three Wizards, two Knights and on her own, perforated a Minotaur with about a hundred spears of ice.
In thirty seconds.
It was her panting state, rage and hate pouring out of her, that allowed her to witness the shine.
"…what the fuck…?"
Her mother, who had been worriedly following Melody's trail of destruction; didn't bother to address the girl's swearing. Which was uncharacteristic of her as it was.
Barret had risen. Shaking. Crying. Angry.
His target?
Lycoris.
To him, to his pain-addled mind. To his rage colored view.
Characteristically for him, honestly.
She was the cause. It was something from her that killed his baby. It was something from her that broke his little girl's neck.
It would be something from her, that he would rip from her hide.
He got three steps.
One and a half words.
"…you…mothaFUCK-
The air shuddered.
The world flickered.
A loud blast of static ripped into everyone's ears.
And suddenly Barret was stopped. His body refused to move. His mind trapped in confusion strong enough to block the towering rage.
THUNK
He dropped to his knees. Hands shaking. Eyes widening. Stomach threatening to rebel.
His body lurched.
His mouth opened.
And a torrent of pale green ripped from his throat.
Across the plaza, Yuffie gave a loud dry heave, until something pale green dribbled from her mouth, exploding outwards like a spraying hose.
The same thing began happening to Cloud, Aerith, Tifa, even Zack and Sephiroth were not spared. A strange, pale green, white-hued substance, exploding from their orifices, bodies shaking uncontrollably. The unusual fluid seemed to shimmer, even sparkle in places, as it collectively yet individually rose from them, twisting and curling, winding and fluttering through the air.
They all collapsed, as the last of it exited their bodies. They were still conscious, just numbed. Awake, but unable to move. Something had been taken from them. No…not so much taken, as it was extracted. It wasn't until Aerith got a good look at it, blurry as her vision was, did she begin to have an idea of what it could have been.
Is…is that…Lifestream…?
The whatever-it-was, spiraled through the air, twirling and dancing as if a series of long, fluttering kites…
Before it was all absorbed into the bulb at the top of the root-vines emerging from the mouth of Marlene's corpse.
Yet the moment those final strands of color entered the strange plant, a flare of light ripped through the plaza.
As a cocoon of pale green light enveloped the whole thing.
…this is getting easy. Too easy.
It was to be expected, to some extent. Combat against the same foe in repeated lengths would lead to one learning the foe's movements. The body learns by repeated doing, muscles memorizing shapes and patterns, mind recalling tells and signals. A shift of posture, a quirk of appendage, a twist in aura or energy or time.
Warriors the millenia over would tell and tell again the folly of training against only one opponent their whole lives. Yes, you learn how to fight. Yes you might even learn how to survive. But you only learn how to handle that one series of events.
All things come at a price. Even knowledge.
Especially knowledge.
So yes, there was a fair logic to Selh'teus' concern at how…effortless it was becoming, to deal with the Nobodies. The familiar squelching popping sound of one of their grey, malleable shapes collapsing to his blade, became background noise over only the course of a few minutes.
OTG never played Kingdom Hearts. He should have. He'd be going on about the 'wibblies' so much. And they do wibble a lot.
The Nobody's strange fluidity of motion, referred to as 'wibbliness', wasn't enough to deny the unnerving sense of ease and familiarity he was getting. It wasn't pride or overconfidence. They would truly be felled faster and faster with each set of them ended.
It had begun since the first ten, yet he didn't notice a significant difference until around the fiftieth. And it was then, against a pair of dancers being flanked by three creepers taking their Spear morphs; that he realized something was off.
When the Spears came, they were popped in a single swipe.
Not one swipe each, but in one swipe.
Before that moment, it had required three swings each. One to deflect, one to daze, and one to destroy. It was, in fact, due to that two swing deficit that almost got him caught in the dancer's annoying containment bubble. He had swung a second time, hitting nothing, blinking in confusion, and the distraction was capitalized upon by the two dancers.
Lucky for him, a quick radial pulse-wave knocked them away before they did that annoying invincible glide-dash bullshit.
The dancers too, were felled in two slashes, where originally it took four.
Battle adaptation alone would explain him getting better at evading their attacks, learning their tells, even reacting to the sounds they made. Rolling beneath the curled cube waves of the sorcerers, hopping between broken walls to dodge the arrow-tipped blasts of the snipers, smacking aside the diving assassins, even parrying the heavy swings of the berserkers. All of those things could be expected to happen as a warrior well honed in battle became acclimated to the movements of the Nobodies.
But that didn't explain why they were dying faster. Sure, once in a while, taking less moves to cause the same amount of damage would happen. Thus was the nature of 'critical hits', striking vital points at just the right time. Weakness areas, openings in defenses, catching one in a failed dodge or overcoming their blocks. Getting used to their movements and the flow of their bodies and attacks as well, would cause an easier rate of striking them down.
But the issue was that it was too often. He knew he wasn't making these 'crits' anywhere near commonly enough for his swings and pulses and slashes and punctures to be doing enough damage to take them out as quickly as he was beginning to.
Ten left.
He ducked below the swipe of a dragoon, flicking his wrist and launching his blade upward. It caught itself in the hooked edge at the spear's tip, wrenching it out of the Nobody's hands. A quick pull and blade and spear alike came back towards him – blade first, being caught at the hilt – where he grabbed both, before puncturing the dragoon with its own weapon.
Nine left.
A pulse-enhanced hop backwards evaded the crushing downward swing of a berserker. The double-headed reverse claymore splintered the cobblestone of the broken half-street he stood on. Another pulse had him ripping towards the berserker, blade-tip forward. The lunge missed, as the featureless humanoid blob creature let go of its weapon to dodge, but that was what he wanted. A field coated heel kicked the berserker's hammer-blade away, while a reverse pulse pushed the body closer to him. Three swings was all it took.
It used to take seven.
Eight-shit!
Four beads of light appeared on his body. A ringing-beeping noise. Four arrow-tipped lances of energy ripped through his body.
Only for it to fade away like a mirage. Eight swings in total were made. All four snipers popped.
Thank Tia for Utsusemi: Ichi.
A quick contortion of his fingers. The kanji for 'Shadow', 'Paper', 'Body', and 'Fake' appeared around his wrists. A quick gesture, and a cocoon of distorted air enveloped him.
Gotta love that two second cast time. Four left.
He kicked away a leaping assassin. Lashing out with his left hand, he grabbed its leg-like tendril and threw it at a gliding dancer. The assassin exploded.
Two left.
A swing of his blade blocked the wall of cubes coming at him from behind. A flick of his wrist and three shuriken were launched from his left hand in a wedge formation. The cubes returned, creating a wall blocking the sorcerer from being hit. Knowing that the cube-wall was nigh-impervious to frontal attacks, he pulled.
The wall collapsed as the sorcerer lost its concentration. After all, it's hard to focus when you have a broken pipe sticking out of your stomach…area.
A quick slash of his blade and the sorcerer popped.
And then there was One.
Fittingly enough, it was a Samurai. The Nobody gripped its two blades, bowing at the waist. Selh'teus did the same, before grasping his own katana, holding it in front of him, blade angled slightly parallel to the ground.
A crack.
A nearby wall had a large fissure in it. Splinters were growing rapidly.
Neither of them moved.
The wall fell.
Both of them took a single step forward.
The Nobody swung its two blades downward in a cross. Selh'teus' blade swung up. The two blades were parried in a single swing. The recoil of the attack knocked the Samurai off balance. For an instant, the blade in his hands crackled with pale grey energy.
Selh'teus pivoted on his heel, bringing the blade across the Samurai's torso. The moment the blade's edge made contact, the pale grey energy flared violently. The Samurai stumbled back. Selh'teus too, retreated, dark surprise on his face. The Samurai clutched the crackling, glowing rift in its chest, before falling to its knees, and detonating in a small explosion.
The surprise shifted to concern. There were no more enemies left where he stood. Oh there would be more further away. He could barely make out the writhing shapes on the horizon, beyond the series of broken streets and roadways of the submerged city that was his battlefield.
But at the moment, he was more concerned with the sword in his hands. Holding it carefully, he inspected it.
It felt…different.
That wasn't something I told it to do. Or…had myself do. What was that? …wait.
A twisted thought had entered his mind.
…Sword Logic?
An almost Dawrinistic mentality. A way of life for a consumptive, destructive race of beings. An ideal that he would admit he believed ever-so-slightly in.
Taken to its fullest, it was a terribly destructive, self-serving, and damn near evil way of life. The idea of only the strong having the right to live. To take and consume and convert the power of one's enemy, to destroy them so completely that nothing of them remained save that which you made yours. There were no innocents. No boundaries. All was for you to take, had you the power to. And if you didn't, you, would be forfeit.
And yet…he would often wonder. Was that so different than the idea of 'gaining exp' in a video game? One would have to restrict things, of course. Redefine some aspects.
…honestly that was how he lived. Only rather than absolute destruction he 'consumed' through connections. Cut down that which threatened what was 'his'. Grow in strength, but impart that manner of growing strength upon others. To be 'given' strength was not strength, not truly. To be lent strength however…
To offer the weak a taste of power, so they would know what it would be to strive for, to learn the end of the path of Growth…
He would agree that to be just given power, was not right. Many would misuse it. To earn power, to earn one's place…that is what taught people the true meaning of being strong.
However…to borrow power…to borrow strength…to connect with someone else and have them resonate their strength with yours, to have them be the spark that started the fire of your own evolution…
That felt more right. Power through unity. Individual strengths being resonated to make something bigger.
That was his 'Sword Logic.' The idea of using your sword, to create a world where you could impart your sword teachings to others, that they may take up their own blades, in defense of what was cherished. A sword to make a sword, to teach the sword.
The idea of Sword Logic came from the axiom that a blade remembered. Where a gun could kill indiscriminately, its bullets spraying life-ending matter in whatever direction its wielder decided, there was no…connection. It was a detached sense of slaughter. Sure one could see the blood spraying, but if one was far enough, it meant little. Stain the surroundings, but not the self.
Yet a blade…
A blade was a bridge between killer and killed. Cutter and cut. The blade sunk into the flesh, and in that moment of contact, two lives were connected. As the flesh was severed, a battle of wills took place. As the blood was splattered, a conclusion was reached. 'I was stronger.'
Before the blade can bite flesh, there is the matter of who is the better? Can the blade even land its damning blow? Was it halted by another? Was its holder defied in the last moment? There's a story there. A story of two people. The blade was the linking point, the bridge, the manifestation of killing intent.
And yet…
When the blade bites flesh, would it even finish its circuit? Would the flesh-bitten rise up at the last moment before damnation and rip themselves away from their fate? Could they have turned the tables, their own blade reaching out and performing the same act, only faster?
Would the blade have killed them? Or merely delayed their own victory?
But regardless of the tale told, unlike the gun, the blade remembered. Each splatter of blood, each chip on bone or steel. The blade told stories. And the blade remembered its kills. The Sword Logic was to imbue one's blade with the tales of others, to grow from their defeats, to consume their strength and make it one's own.
Kill a hundred of your children with a long blade, Auryx, and observe the change in the blade. Observe how the universe shrinks from you in terror.
And that's exactly what he was doing. Something about his sword had changed. It reacted differently to the Nobodies than the rest of him did. The blade remembered. It had learned.
It was no longer merely a slightly enhanced katana. It had evolved. Become more.
…so I've been unconsciously practicing the Sword Logic on these things…and this blade has been evolved to reflect such.
A gentle crackle of pale light. He nodded. It wasn't sentient. Nowhere near it. But it was not just another sword.
Maybe it was the Void Crystals embedded in its tang. Maybe it was that it was forged through Halos, which were condensed souls of celestial beings. Maybe it was that he made it inside a girl who called herself 'daughter'.
But the Blade had ceased to be a mere blade.
"…I name you Mugetsu. Bane of Nobody."
The blade's edge crackled louder.
…my life is a goddamn mess.
She was not far away when the frantic cries began.
Annoyed, inconvenienced, worried. Those were the primary feelings cycling through Akira's heart as the Taken invasion began. Annoyed, because this now was a further distraction from the faint sensations of her Lord, her King, that she was trying to keep track of.
Inconvenienced, due to the Noise Wave that prevented contact with the outside realms. Yes, even her realm was barred from her due to the remnant echoes of the Song of Desolation. Luckily for her, however, she was not as severely diminished as the Light wielders. Though weakened from being disconnected from her Realm, so too, was the Realm of Light being barred.
And thanks to that, there was no steady influx of Light into the world. This, meant that the negative emotions surging through the hearts of its inhabitants, fed the growing Shadow.
Akira would always be strong, even when barred from her Throne, as long as the Light remained similarly weakened.
However, she was still worried. Not for herself, but for her King. Izanami, or rather, Marie as she was to be called in that form, was terrified. The surviving Gods of Earth were just as weakened, and the Copy Gods of the various Worlds, were the same.
She had been paying close attention to the callouts Lycoris made. Every bit of information about the new Enemy was logged and memorized immediately. The tall, tri-spike-crowned ones had a knife shaped like [no more fear]. Fire would spit from the glowing rift on their face and coat the ground. The small, spindly ones had a knife shaped like [sideways] that allowed them and many others of their kind to simply shunt from place to place in small bursts.
The board holders had [retaliation], blasting waves of force out of the central grooves in their shields. The screaming floaters would [call forth the numberless] summoning shadowed versions of the spindly runners, in between numerous blasts of potent burning energy.
These Taken had powers beyond even the Nobodies, and were fearsome durable to boot. She wondered how her Heartless would compare.
But still, she heard the cries. And paid attention.
She was not confused, when Marlene shoved the Crystal Tear inside herself. Why would she be? She was there the first time it happened. She was merely concerned.
When the root emerged from between the girl's legs, like a slimy tentacle, Aki knew what was coming.
And she knew why.
Marlene had not set any definitions. No limits. The Tear was going out of control.
When the echoing crack of the girl's spine breaking resounded along the plaza-turned-battlefield, Akira merely sighed.
But the glow of [Lifestream] that had emerged, gathering at and around the girl's corpse, made the Queen of Dark blink. And then let out a huff of amusement.
It was as her Lord, her King, the One who is to become Zero, had said.
Some endings, were just the last step to a new beginning.
"Mugetsu: Raigeki."
A berserker had tried to defend using its oversized blade. The strike, delivered with the force of crashing thunder, slammed into its defense like the fist of an angry giant. The berserker's body wibbled violently with the strength of the attack, before it and its blade were crushed heavily into the ground by the blow's impact.
Ever since naming the blade changed by his rendition of the Sword Logic, he discovered it had drank in the Nobody's powers of distorting reality. Already existing to enhance his gravitational fields to be sharper than they would normally be without minutes of preparation, the Mugetsu now held powers all its own.
On top of which, it was now beginning to heavily augment his capability to fight the Nobodies being thrown at him as a…deterrent? Gaea had to know he was cutting through them with ease, even before the blade evolved. What was the goal here?
A casual stomp popped the berserker's head, and a quintet of thrown shuriken were evaded by a dusk wibbling out of the way, only for them to gouge into the torso of the sorcerer behind it. A pulse of force had Selh'teus carving through the dusk, kicking off the ground and delivering a punishing kick to the sorcerer's torso. Another thrown trio of weapons, this time kunai, scattered a small group of creepers as they were preparing to turn into lances.
Quirking his fingers around an unseen object, the Kanji for 'force', 'air', 'pressure' and 'wind' erupted around him. A thrust of his left hand, and a compressed sphere of green energy ripped from his palm. The Fuuton: Ni jutsu touched ground next to a pair of snipers, blowing them away when it detonated with explosive force and cutting winds.
Sealing the Mugetsu into his Vector Trap for a moment, he reached out and pulled towards himself, gripping the air. The yanking motion pulled a dragoon's spear from its hands, where he stabbed backwards, impaling a leaping assassin, lashing out again and blowing it away with a field of repulsive force.
Retrieving the Mugetsu, he jumped over the curving wall of transparent boxes, flipping once and bringing his blade down on the head of one of the recovering snipers.
However, either they got lucky, or someone had directed them, because after popping the one sniper, two more had appeared nearby, along with the creepers from before, a pair of dancers, and a gambler whose dice were already glowing. He could repel them all with a pulse of his field but…
"Mugetsu: Shippuu."
He flipped the blade in hand, to hold it in reverse, while twisting in on himself like a coiled spring. The pale blade crackled with off-white energy for a brief moment, before Selh'teus lashed out in a spinning slash. Two revolutions, ending with the blade being turned around to be held normally, with the second revolution summoning a circular wave of power that carved into everything nearby.
A series of fizzling pops told him that all of the Nobodies were destroyed.
…except he suddenly whirled around, sharp gaze locked onto the tall white figure that had definitely not been there two seconds ago.
…wait. Is that-
The figure, wearing an armored outfit of pure white, with blue flame patterns on the wrists and ankles, head shaped like that of an owl, simply stepped forward, drawing a black dagger with an odd addition to its hilt.
Recognition flaring in his eyes, Selh'teus burst forward, blade readied.
But he was too slow.
ETERNAL
Just as he drew back to swing, the die had already been cast. Fate set in stone.
Even his unusual ability to sometimes rewrite causality, couldn't have changed the outcome.
ETERNAL
MAXIMUM DRIVE
G_._e._._ck…
You are Forsaken.
.._e.._m…_a_.
Unload your gun. Take off your jacket.
.iv…e_b._
Why do you struggle? What do you hope to gain?
Gi._he.._ac.
You fight for your loved ones. You stand for your chosen family. The man who raised you as his own even though you shared no blood. The woman who set you free and cherished you like a valued warrior. The traveler who gave you power and right to stand at the front of battle.
. _.k
A Flower blooms for you. It grows within [Lifestream].
Givethemback.
Gather the fragments of your broken World. The last things to survive the Purge.
Givethemback.
Collect the pieces of your shattered dreams. Sacrificed desires for the good of all.
Give them back.
Your children await.
Give them back!
Now reach forth to your greatest Wish.
GIVE THEM BACK!
Grasp hold of the [Jewel-That-Is-World].
GIVE THEM BACK!
And implant yourself with the Seed of your [Future].
GIVE THEM BACK!
The cocoon did not burst.
It did not buckle or shatter or fragment or collapse in any manner.
It glowed. It glowed the same glow it had been glowing since the strands of life and memory had formed it. In the sea of cries and calls, of dying twisted monsters and groaning pained combatants, it glowed like a gentle star; a peaceful place in a space of chaos.
But its glow did change. Imperceptible due to the natural brightness, its glow intensified ever so slightly. And as it did, a shape emerged.
It was the appearance of the shape that caused disruption to the field of battle. Those who survived the Meteor Crisis (and the one who caused it) were halted as suddenly their senses, honed from years of battle and life, screamed that something unnatural had appeared.
Well, more unnatural than the Taken, at least.
Yet at the same time, it wasn't. The Unnatural feeling came from a sense of familiarity. A sense of knowledge and understanding. Something they all had faced before, had appeared. Something they recognized, on the deepest level.
It was the fact that the Taken had suddenly ceased appearing in their proximity, that was the only outside warning they received.
The figure gained definition.
The shape of a woman. Perhaps nearing the end of her twenties. Its flesh took the color of angry clouds preparing a storm. Long, flowing dark grey hair fluttered behind its back. Its body was lithe and slender. Not emaciated but almost underfed. Not a corpse, but nearing. An oblong shaped face, framed by two thick clumps of hair, parted very familiarly. Thin lips covered in a black sheen, small but defined breasts with dark areolae, hairless all over save the head, brow and eyelashes.
Yet…just above its pubic region. In the exact spot where a woman's ovaries would be positioned…
Was a strange, black marking.
GIVE THEM BACK.
A thought entered the mind of two. Only two. The first was the blonde of the group. Clamoring to his feet just as the shape emerged, Cloud stared in confusion and slowly mounting horrified recognition.
The second…would not make the connection, until after the next two events happened.
Event the first: the woman-shape's eyes opened, revealing glowing red irises with slitted, feral looking pupils. As its eyes opened, a soft, but very obvious smirk took shape on its lips.
Event the Second: after opening its eyes, the woman-shape stretched its arms up, arcing its back, and emitting a low, almost sensual moan. The clicking snap of gas pockets in between joins resounded beyond the explosions and cries and screams of the further areas of battle, as the woman-shape's body adjusted to being real once again. Real, and complete. However that was merely the first half.
GIVE THEM BACK.
The second half, the part that set everything into motion, was when a series of writhing, glowing, pale green tendrils whipped out of the woman-shape's back, twisting and thrashing, until they splintered, shrunk, flattened out, extended and lost all color.
The recognition appeared on Sephiroth's face, as the strange protrusions shifted…
Into two, light-drinking, feathered, black wings.
"…mother…?"
EYE
It's head tilted to his direction. The smirk turning into a grin.
The others began reacting to the sudden voice invading their souls.
KAIGAN
And then she vanished.
JENOVA
Only to re-appear, with her arm shoved inside of Sephiroth's chest.
(BGM: Final Fantasy 7 Advent Children: J-E-N-O-V-A FFAC Version)
The silver haired man gurgled and fell to his back, the grey skinned woman dropping atop him in the process. Her arm was buried in his torso, his hands gripping her bicep weakly as he felt her rummaging around in…
It wasn't his chest she was grasping. His heart and lungs felt pressured and pained, but not as if there were an actual arm sticking out of him. There was no blood or gore or anything to denote that he had an arm sticking from his torso. She had punched through him, but it was…as if it were a him that were on a different plane than he actually was. Her left hand came up, slapping away his hands, before placing itself on his right shoulder. With a casual push, she lifted herself off of him, removing her arm with a strange, deep SPLORK sound.
She stood up quickly, arm dripping with the same pale green substance that had emerged from them all, while to his blurry sight, in her hand, she held something darker than black. His unfocused eyes barely made out a wild grin on her face, before suddenly she lashed out with her left foot.
A loud wheezing cough echoed through the air, as Cloud buckled over, grip on his buster sword almost being lost. She was fast! He'd made as little noise as he could, trying to deliver a surprise attack on the somehow revived Calamity of the Skies, but she reacted far faster, and far sooner than he could have expected.
His last thought before a very loud "OWGODMYFACE" due to her making a short hop in the air before a lightning fast sweep with her right heel sent him flying; was that she was almost as fast as Yuffie.
It was a strange sight, she thought. To be seeing someone doing to that bunch what she had done. The grey-woman, being reacted to with horrified glares and terror-filled attacks, was easily dismantling every single one of them.
The blurring combination of punches and kicks launched by Tifa were all but batted aside with casual ease. The brunette titty-demon had some of her best combos blocked, parried, or outright interrupted by the naked femme-shape as if it werent even trying. A thrusted palm slapped down, a rising heel shifted aside, a sweep of the legs hopped over and an uppercut stopped by a punch to the face with such speed that it looked like the pugilist's hair had suddenly gone ramrod straight.
Sephiroth seemed to be down for the count, as all he could do was clutch his torso, groan and squeeze his eyes shut. She didn't understand why though.
Unknown to her, he had never recovered from Alicia's final assault. She threw everything she had into that spear, and as its prefacing statement said: it was engraved upon his very soul. In that one attack, she had severely and permanently damaged a part of Sephiroth's very concept. His soul was scarred by the Lance of the Nibelung, damaged irreparably where it should have been destroyed.
He was lucky the girl was holding back.
That aside, she watched as the woman-shape would periodically vanish in a distortion of air and scattered black feathers, appearing somewhere else. It wasn't until Akira noticed the pattern that she came to the conclusion that this 'Jenova' was actively relocating itself to preemptively evade any powerful spells that were about to be sent its way.
She deduced this, by way of noticing the frustrated look on Aerith's face every time it happened.
Yet…
It also seemed like 'Jenova' was inching its way towards the Planet Girl, slowly.
The question was, what for? Why all of this? Why did it emerge from the Cauldron?
The answer, was quite obvious.
It was very clear that 'Jenova' had the ability to kill them at any given time. How it was fighting, was as if it were humoring them. Not so much 'toying' with them as it was merely getting acclimated to their method of combat, instead of just erasing them all. It had power, clearly. It would have Power, given that it was so obviously generated as a defensive creature to protect the Cauldron.
But as Akira watched 'Jenova' block Zack's overhead swing by stepping aside in a shimmering blur and kicking it out of his hands, before grabbing his lifted leg and throwing him into a charging Cloud, she further understood, and thus answered her own question.
The first thing 'Jenova' did, was take something from Sephiroth. It had not repeated the action with anyone else as of yet, but was making its way, slowly, towards Aerith.
'Jenova' had been born from the Cauldron, after the Tear did something to draw out some life-imbued substance from those seven, and only those seven.
The Cauldron had not yet lost its shine, nor its form, meaning it was still undergoing the Smelting process.
'Jenova' was not what the Cauldron was creating.
Therefore, 'Jenova' was meant to do something to assist the Cauldron's function, and everyone not Aerith was an obstacle.
On top of which, 'Jenova' was not being directed to erase anything it encountered.
Thus, it was with a clear conscience, and a ready will, that the moment Yuffie had appeared in 'Jenova's' blind spot, Yukianesa pulled back for a thrusting stab right between the woman-shape's wings; the ninja found herself getting a chest full of foot, courtesy of an intervening Akira.
Once again, the small battle halted, as Queen of Dark and World Eater glanced at each other.
And then nodded.
She'd never fought Miri before.
Technically none of them had.
Back when Marlene was first…assaulted…Miri had only struck out at two of theirs. Cloud and Barret. And both of them had gotten wrecked in a single combo.
Tifa was now beginning to understand why, though lovable as all hell, people feared Miri. She was as fast as Yuffie was on a good day, as punishing as getting hit by Cloud's Buster Sword, quiet as a mouse, and as limber as she was.
The Queen of Dark didn't share Tifa's chest, being more around Aerith's size, but Tifa noted that she hit just as hard. And good lord could she move.
Tifa was a damn near physical God, when it came to martial arts. Years of dedicated training, backed by a silent memory of hatred, refined into a burning need to protect what she cherished, drove her to breaking beyond her limits. Every punch she made, even without Materia, was as strong as a jackhammer. Every kick as hard hitting as a pissed off mule. A shoulder check from this bitch would knock out the hardest of linebackers.
And yet it was all meaningless against this…Queen. It was bad enough that Jenova was able to counter her so easily. Yuffie got a pass because ever since Seth's training the girl was a speed demon. It didn't matter if Tifa could shatter concrete in a single punch, displace a river in a dropped heel, if she couldn't hit the damn girl. Jenova's movements were rough. Jerky. As if she didn't know her own body that well. As if she wasn't experienced in combat. Which…Tifa would later realize, she wasn't.
But she was quick, spastic and instinctive. And it was enough to keep Tifa at bay.
Miri, however. Or rather, Akira…
It was like trying to hit a shadow. The girl would just…move. Yuffie would either not be there, or make slight adjustments to parry. Tifa herself would shift in a way to redirect the attack and open up a vector for striking back. Akira…?
She just flowed. Like liquid Darkness, she twisted, slid, ducked…moved. Everything seemed streamlined. Every motion flowing into the next. Like a dance. Tifa'd have to admit, despite knowing her first as a small child, Akira was damn attractive. And while she had her heart set on Cloud – the spiky headed bastard – Tifa would freely concede that if someone went and got her drunk and sat her next to Akira, after feeling her in battle like this?
She'd probably make a move.
Then wake up the next day and be mortified.
Hey, martial Arts isn't just about beating the shit out of things. It's also about understanding yourself. And Tifa understood herself well enough to know that she was attracted on a subconscious level, to people who could keep up with her.
And after the fifth time Tifa's attempted Dolphin Kick failed, yeah. Aki could keep up with her.
The pain in the back of her head as she was stomped into the ground also told her that Aki could beat her.
Pride aside? Tifa was alright with that.
…just another person to get strong against.
Yuffie had been repelled. Tifa had been beaten, cradling the back of her skull. Sephiroth was still out. Zack was trying to heal Cloud, who had eaten a Fire 3 to the face when Jenova dodged it just as he was trying to Braver her.
Barret had raised his gun arm, and revved up, only to have it kicked above, his stomach punched inward causing him to cough up blood, his head snapped to the side by a rising twisted heel, and his flesh arm dislocated from hitting the ground wrong.
All as Jenova made her final approach to Aerith, who had drawn her staff, and was fending the Calamity off. Waves of flame were batted aside by the feathered wings as the woman-shape tried to get into Aerith's space. But the staff and the various elemental attacks were keeping her at bay.
Suddenly, Jenova vanished, and Aki had taken her place, the Nightfall swinging wildly. Shock and fear in her eyes, Aerith lashed out with a wave of Holy that to her horror, Aki just cut through, an echoing, overpowering field of Dark energy wrapped around her Keyblade. A very unhappy look was in the Queen's eyes, as she flickered forward, reverse edge out, hooking onto the Ancient's staff, and wrenching it out of her grip.
In that exact second, Aerith felt true fear, as her stomach was caved in, her arm was broken, her leg was grabbed and used to wrench her whole body off the ground, slamming her face first into the concrete, her hair was grabbed and she was lifted and then punted into the air…
Until a THOOSH echoed and suddenly Aerith's head was snapped up, teeth clattering together as a vicious uppercut came home.
And then it ended, as Jenova appeared above her, and ran her through with a sword that looked exactly like Sephiroth's.
A/N: Fuck. Just fuck. Same as always.
So here it is. Getting realer and realer. next couple chapters...well...you'll see. eventually. Wanted to do jenova more justice but holy hell i am missing fight inspiration badly. ...i need money. So i can get game. so i can feel combat. I got nothing really...fast enough for my peeps in this story. ugh.
Quiet agaiiiin. Tia i hope this week i can start cranking out the next chapter. Really need to finish this part...